Alternatives
by TheBucketWoman
Summary: Flashfic for MoonlitJeannie. Friends try to intervene when they discover one of their own in trouble.


Alternatives

by TheBucketWoman

Disclaimer: I do not own_ Life with Derek_ or anything else I may reference herein. No profit is being made nor is any infringement intended.

A/N: This is a flashfic for Allie, aka Moonlit Jeannie. It deals with some dark subjects such as depression, self-mutilation, and suicidal ideation. I've tried to handle this with sensitivity, but if these things disturb you, it would be a good idea to pass on this fic. The original prompt will appear at the end.

Part One: Derek.

In the middle of English class, an announcement came over the loudspeaker summoning Ralph Jankowski to the main office.

"Ooooh," Derek sang. "Told you you'd get caught."

"Derek," Mr. Sheehan said, for lack of anything better to say.

"Shyeah," Ralph said. "Keep trying to blame me. See if I care." It was still early enough in the class period for Ralph not to think to bring any of his stuff with him.

Twenty minutes later the class discussion of _The Princess Bride_ had turned into an actual intelligent debate (the teacher was shocked to bits) between two factions: one led by Casey McDonald and the other led (surprise, surprise) by Derek Venturi, who had (an actual surprise) read the book.

That all went to hell when Ralph reentered the room with his head down, refusing to make any kind of eye contact as he handed a dismissal slip to Mr. Sheehan. He gathered up his books and walked right out of the class, without a word to anyone. Sam went after him. Mr. Sheehan looked down at the dismissal slip like he'd never seen one before, but then he stuck it into his back pocket.

"Okay, so where were we?" Mr. Sheehan said.

"We were wondering what just happened?" Derek said.

"I believe we were having a discussion on characterization," Mr. Sheehan said, a little uncertainly. "Casey? You were saying?"

"Huh?" Casey said. She'd been staring at the door, openly confused. Her head snapped back to the teacher and she began to regather her thoughts.

"Oh, Um, I think I was saying that Westley—"

She was interrupted by the return of Sam.

Sam worried the hem of his t-shirt as he made his way back to his seat. The look on his face was that of a four year old who can't find the bathroom. When Sam reached his desk, Derek swatted at his arm. Sam looked at him eyebrows raised.

"What the Hell?" Derek whispered.

"Okay," Mr. Sheehan said, looking at his watch. "The bell's about to ring, anyway. We'll continue this tomorrow."

"Ralph's Grandma just died," Sam whispered.

"Shit," Derek said. Mr. Sheehan pretended not to have heard him, continued to gather up his junk.

Casey got up from her seat a couple of rows away and went to where Derek and Sam were.

"What?" Casey said. Sam told her.

"Oh my God," Casey said. "How bad?"

"I think the word 'dead' implies that things can't get much worse," Derek said.

"No, Dumbass," Casey said . "I meant how badly is he taking it?"

"I dunno," Sam said. "Seemed kinda zombie-ish." Casey and Derek nodded.

"The funeral?" Casey asked.

"I'll see what I can find out after school," Sam said. "Might be right away."

"How come?" Casey asked.

"That side of the family's Jewish," Sam said. "And I think that the rule is that you have to be buried right away. Like within a day."

"Well, okay," Casey said. As they left the class, she reopened her notebook and wrote something down.

"How bout we all meet after school," Casey said. "And then we talk strategy." She looked at her watch.

"Meanwhile," she continued. "I have some Googling to do."

Sam and Derek looked at each other and shook their heads. Casey really did plan everything.

"Strategy for _what_?" Derek asked.

"I'd think you would've learned not to ask by now," Sam said.

"I heard that," Casey said, as she walked away.

Later on, as expected, Casey called Sam, Emily, Sheldon and Derek into the McDonald-Venturi's kitchen. She set cookies out and sat everyone around the kitchen table.

"Okay," she said. "We have a lot to figure out, so we better get started."

"What," Derek said. "You couldn't get a gavel?"

"Have a cookie, Derek," Casey said, stuffing one into his mouth. "We need to be serious here. Sam? Did you get hold of anyone in Ralph's family?"

"My Mom's over at his house now," Sam said. "With _his_ Mom, ya know, and she says the funeral's tomorrow, and our job is to come over to the house after school while they're sitting _shiva_. They're gonna be doing that for probably three days."

"Shiva?" Derek asked, mouth full. When Casey rolled her eyes at him, he swallowed and said, "Oh like _you_ know. I take that back—you probably Googled it."

"I _did_," Casey said.

"So then what is it?" Derek asked. It occurred to Derek that they could have just asked Sheldon about this, but it was fun to watch Casey lecture. Sheldon looked pretty interested to see what she came up with, too.

"Right after the funeral, people come to the family's house and cook for them, or bring food, hang out, take care of whatever they need. The family stays home from work and school, and lets people take care of them," Casey said.

"Walk the dog," Sam said.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot all about that huge dog," Casey said, a little uneasily. The dog seemed to think Casey tasted good. Was constantly licking her.

"Don't hate on poor Hagrid," Derek said. "I_ love_ that dog. Even though he wants to steal you away from me."

"Ucch," Casey said.

"So they're gonna do this for three days," Emily said, ignoring Derek and Casey. She turned toward Sheldon. "I thought it was longer, wasn't it babe?"

"Depends on how traditional you're being," Sheldon said. "It lasts seven days, but some people do it for three. And it's followed by _sheloshim_which lasts for a monthThey might or might not do that one. We should be ready just in case though, 'cause that would mean Ralph wouldn't go to any parties, dances or D-Rock rehearsals or gigs for a month."

"I like how you put the gig thing in there, like _we _get gigs, Schlep," Derek said.

"It'd be just our luck," Sheldon said. "But I doubt anyone wants us without him anyway."

Derek nodded. "Pleather pants are part of our overall attraction, aren't they?"

"Can we _focus,_ people?" Casey asked. She pulled out a folder, opened it and pulled out several copies of a printout. "This is a list of etiquette rules for the _shiva_. I think we should all look it over, because I for one am not trying to offend anyone and make a fool of myself in the process, and if any of_ you_ do? I don't know you." She was looking at Derek when she said that last part. He made a kissy face at her.

"Derek," Casey said. "Stop messing around. Someone died, ya know. That's what this is all about? Hello?"

"Yeah, I know," Derek said.

"This is gonna be bad," Sam said.

"Yeah," Emily agreed. They all knew exactly how close Ralph was to his grandmother.

Part Two: Casey.

Nobody wanted to be the first to go into Ralph's house the next day. For Casey, part of it was the scuff marks on the door at waist level that reminded her of the dog, but most of it was the silence. Everyone knew that the house was full of people and yet it managed to be so quiet. Finally, it was Emily who rolled her eyes and grabbed the doorknob.

When they came in, just as Casey feared, there was the immediate sound of doggie nails on wood floors as Hagrid, Ralph's Great Dane, came running in. Derek, in a move that won him countless points with Casey, stepped forward, crouched down, and became the first one to be slobbered on.

"Hey, you," he said as he scratched the dog's ears. "Barkin' hard or hardly barkin?"

The dog slapped him in the face with his tongue. Casey was horrified. Derek looked unconcerned. But just so that nobody felt left out, Hagrid slurped everybody in turn and thumped several legs with his tail.

Ralph came in after a minute, probably wondering where the dog had gone to.

"Guys, what're you doing here?" he said. "You didn't have to—"

"'Course we did," Casey said, hugging him. It took him a few seconds to respond to the hug, but when he did, he squeezed her pretty hard.

"Like you thought you were getting rid of us?" Derek said, managing a little one handed boy-hug.

"Thought the dog would keep out intruders," Ralph said cracking a little half-smile.

"We must have missed the 'Beware of Slobber' sign," Sheldon said. Hagrid was currently sitting next to him, leaning against him a little, with his tail thumping the floor. Sheldon was absently rubbing the dog's massive head.

"Come on," Ralph said, nodding toward the living room. "There's food."

"I think we're supposed to be feeding _you_," Casey said. "You should just sit—"

At the mention of the word, "sit" Hagrid, who'd been following them as they moved toward the living room, abruptly sat down. Derek bit his lip. Sheldon snorted. Emily went into a flurry of baby talk while scratching Hagrid some more.

"See?" Ralph said. "He likes you. Sure you don't wanna take him home?"

"Positive," Casey said. "The house can't take one more messmaker, so unless you wanna take Derek in trade..."

"I wuv you too, Case," Derek said.

"Don't you kiss me with your doggy lips," Casey said.

"You're slobbery, too," Derek said. "And furry."

"We have a lint-thingee," Ralph said. "I'll go get—"

"Nope," Casey said. "I'll live with a little fur on me. Since I'm sure there will be more later."

"Probably," Ralph said.

"We're being really inappropriate, aren't we?" Emily said in a tiny voice. Casey blushed, her worst fears realized.

Ralph looked at both of them like they were crazy. "Food," he said. "C'mon."

He led them to a buffet table set up along one wall, excusing himself and taking a full plate from his Mom, who didn't look too interested in her corned beef.

"Wrap it up for later, okay, Ralphie?"she said.

"Uh-huh," he said.

Ralph's Mom was tiny. It just didn't look logistically possible for him to be her son. She liked to joke about finding him mixed in with her towels when she got home from the laundromat. That day, she looked about to sink into the couch she was sitting on.

"Ruthie, you need to eat something," one old lady said.

"Don't nag, Sarah," said another. "She eats when she eats."

"Don't worry," Ruthie Jankowski said. "It won't go to waste. Even if I don't eat it, I'm sure John will." She gestured toward Ralph's Dad, who was smoking a cigarette on the other side of the room, ashing into a beer can.

"Kids!" Ruthie said, noticing them for the first time. "You guys are the sweetest." She grabbed Sam, who was nearest. He had to hunch over quite a bit to accommodate her. Next was Derek, then Sheldon, then Casey and Emily. When she sat down again, the dog put his head in her lap, pretty much preventing her from getting up for a little while.

Ralph continued to hop around, making sure everyone was fed, no matter how often people told him to sit down and relax. John, his Dad, almost put an end to it.

"Kid," he said. "Why you gotta be such a woman? Just sit the hell down, and stop being a retard." Ralph turned a little red at this, but otherwise, didn't react at all.

Several people turned around in shock. Emily opened her mouth before Casey had a chance to open hers.

"Em," Sam said, shaking his head.

"This is really good corned beef," Derek said, just a touch too enthusiastically, so that it was quite obvious that he'd just spoken to change the subject.

"Why don't you kids go someplace more comfortable?" Ruthie said. "Upstairs, or outside? It's a beautiful day. I know you don't wanna be cooped up in here with all the old people."

"Speak for yourself," said one of the old ladies on the couch.

"One step ahead of you," Sam said. "Ralphie?" Sam nodded toward the stairs.

"Yeah, okay," Ralph said. He led them up to his room.

"What the hell was that?" Casey whispered to Derek as they climbed the stairs. They were far enough away from Ralph that they wouldn't be overheard.

"His old man's a pig," Derek said, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. "He's always been a pig. But he works a lot, so Ralph doesn't have to deal with him so much."

"Someone needs to break his nose," Casey said. "These boots are pretty heavy. I think one of em would do the trick."

"Yeah, but you do that and you go down for assaulting a police officer," Derek said.

"Oh yeah," Casey said. She'd forgotten that he was a cop.

"Oh, _pig_," Sheldon said, under his breath. "I get it." That started a debate between Derek and Casey about the political correctness of calling cops pigs.

"I'm not calling _all_ cops pigs, just the pigs," Derek said.

"De-rek," Casey said. By then, she'd been picking the CDs off of Ralph's floor and putting them back into their rightful cases, but she stopped long enough to properly glare at him.

Ralph looked from one to the other, the way people watch tennis matches on TV. Casey blushed, embarrassed to have brought the subject up in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Casey said.

"Why?" Ralph asked.

"Constantly running off at the mouth?" Casey said.

"Why stop now?" Derek joked. Ralph smiled.

"This is not what we're supposed to be doing!" Casey said. "We're just supposed to keep our mouths shut and be there for you! We're screwing up the custom!"

"I won't tell if you don't," Ralph said.

There was a painfully uncomfortable silence after that. It was relieved for about a second when Hagrid nosed the door open. Ralph patted a spot on the bed next to him and the dog hopped up and settled his head onto Ralph's stomach. Then, he politely waited for Ralph to feed him bits of his untouched corned beef. The dog ate very gently out of his hand. The sight of that made Casey decide that she would never complain about that particular dog drooling, slobbering, covering her in fur, or scratching her with those deceptively sharp claws again. She had a nice sized scratch on her arm from when Hagrid jumped on her before. It was red and puffy, but it hadn't bled. It was more of a welt, really.

"Will somebody please say something?" Ralph asked.

"Where did that corned beef come from?" Derek asked, a little halfheartedly. He seemed as fascinated by the little mark on Casey's arm as she had been when she'd first gotten it.

"My Aunt Sarah brought it," Ralph said. "I think it's just from the supermarket."

"So listen," Sam piped up. "Did you eat at all today?"

"Yeah," Ralph said, shrugging. "Had a couple-three donuts."

"Do you think you want some more soda?" Casey asked. "Or some cookies?" She was gathering up paper plates to get rid of, mentally cursing herself for being so damn squirrelly. And part of her mind was also berating her for giving the boy sugar on top of sugar. But if there was ever a day when he needed it, it was that day.

Ralph shrugged. Casey took that to mean "Would you be so kind as to bring back a big ole pile of those macaroon thingees, and a ginger ale?"

"Be right back," Casey said.

On her way downstairs, she passed through a cloud of smoke, courtesy of Ralph's father. To her credit, she didn't do what she usually did when that happened, namely cough theatrically and wave her arms like the whole house was on fire. She had a feeling that if she did that with_ this _guy, she'd only get a face full of smoke. He kept looking at his watch, like he was hinting that it was time for people to go home.

"'Scuse me," she said as she passed him.

"Be my guest," he said, moving aside a little. "Can't get rid of you, anyway."

"I'm sorry?" Casey said. "Did you say something?"

"Naw," he said. Casey looked over at the buffet table. She wondered how much of that little dish of horseradish she could jam up the man's nose before anyone could stop her.

Get the damn cookies and beat it, she thought. So she went over to the table, grabbed a plate and started to fill it.

"Hey," A voice said, from behind Casey. She turned around, but the guy with the walrus mustache wasn't talking to her. "Some bowling night, huh, Johnny?"

"No shit," Ralph's father, Johnny, agreed. "Think they'll miss us if we go out for a beer?"

"Don't make your wife mad at you," Walrus Mustache said.

"She won't say nothing."

"Don't make my wife mad at me," WM said. "Walking out on your mother-in-law's _shiva_ to get a beer is a pretty good way to be sent to hell."

"I ain't even Jewish," Johnny said.

"Me neither," WM said. "But your wife and kid are, so you better keep em happy."

"Give Ralph a stick to play with and he's happy for a week," Ralph's father said. Casey suddenly no longer wanted to think of him as having a name.

WM snorted. "That ain't right," he said. But he was laughing.

"No it ain't," Ralph's father agreed. "I should be real grateful that I don't have to pay for college."

"How come?" WM said.

"How _come_? You met the kid?" Ralph's father said. "I wanted to have him tested. Thought for sure he was retarded."

A cookie crumbled to dust in Casey's hand.

"If he was retarded, they would've found out at the school," WM said.

"At _that_ school?" Ralph's father asked. "How could you tell the difference? I'm pretty sure the kid's just useless, though. He can push a mop around. That'll open things up for him. Big, Fuckin' Disappointment." He went to take a swig from his beer, but realized it was empty. "I'm gonna get another beer. Want?"

"Naw," WM said. "And I think you might've had enough, too."

"I paid for the fuckin' beer, I'm gonna have my fuckin' beer," Ralph's father said. At that, people finally turned around in shock.

_Sure_, Casey thought. _Calling his son a big retarded disappointment didn't raise so much as an eyebrow, but mention beer and the gasps start up. What's the matter with these people?I know I'm not the only one who heard that. And why am I standing here with cookie dust leaking from my hand when I should be pelting the old man with something? I don't even care if he arrests me. I have a good lawyer. I need to do something. C'mon...go do something. Pelt! Throw! You huge wimpy coward. _

"Just terrible," Some old lady said.

"That sweet boy," Another one said. "Having a father like that."

"Little Ralphie...well, not so little anymore, he took such good care of Ella," the first old lady said, referring to Ralph's grandmother. "The way he drove her around after she broke the hip. Never complained. Now, I see he was happy to get out of the house."

_SOMEBODY FREAKIN DO SOMETHING_, Casey thought. _Go Upstairs. Now. Put the cookies down and get your act together. Maybe we can tell George and he'll know what to do. _

When she got upstairs, she put the cookies on a side table and the bottle of soda she'd snagged on the floor next to it, then headed for the bathroom, which was occupied.

Dammit, Dammit, Dammit! She thought. Then the door opened and she collided with Sam.

"Sorry, Case," he said. Casey burst into tears.

"Hey," Sam said. "What—"

"That," Casey blubbered. "That...PIG!"

"You met Ralph's father?"Sam asked.

"You know about this?" Casey asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Stay here." He opened the door to Ralph's bedroom. Casey stepped out of sight.

"Then the donkey said 'Water, Master, water,'" Sheldon said. "And the Master said, 'Patience, Jackass, patience.' And—"

"Is there an end to this joke in sight?" Derek asked.

"Patience, Jackass, patience," Sheldon said.

Derek groaned.

"Um, D. come out here for a sec?" Sam said, before Derek could threaten Sheldon's life.

"Okaaay," Derek said. "Oh crap." He put his arms around Casey and let her sob for a couple of minutes. Casey could almost hear his stomach roil.

"Met Ralph's Dad," Sam said.

"Shit," Derek said.

"Why didn't I know about this?" Casey said. "Did I miss something?"

"Ralph didn't want anyone to know about it," Derek said. "This is only the third time we've been in this house since grade five. _Ralph's_ almost never here when the old man's home. I mean, do you know how many hours he works?"

"And all the time he used to spend at his grandma's," Sam said.

"Oh my God," Derek said, realizing.

"I thought he worked so much because he just wanted new drums," Casey said. "And his grandma seemed to need him."

"She didn't always need him so much," Sam said. "He just used to go over there to her house to get out of here. And because she was cool."

"She was pretty cool," Derek said. Casey'd only met the old lady once, but she had indeed been a really great old lady. And she had Ralph's exact same goofy smile.

"Isn't this the type of thing you call social workers for?" Casey asked.

"Been there, done that," Derek said. "When we were twelve or so."

"Social worker came, and I think everyone lied," Sam said. "Because nothing happened. If Ralph's Dad were beating him up, then they would've been able to do something."

Casey stared at the both of them in disbelief.

The door opened. "So the talent agent takes a swig of Pepto, turns to the father and asks 'What do you call this act?'" Ralph said as he stepped out. He stood with his back to Derek, Sam, and Casey.

"'The Aristocrats,'" Emily said.

"Dude," Ralph said. "You guys just let me go on all this time when you knew the joke?"

"It's a classic," Sheldon said. "Wanted to see what you'd do with it."

"And we saw that documentary on it?" Emily said.

"Somebody did an entire documentary on a joke?" Ralph asked. He shook his head.

"There you are," Ralph said, spotting his three friends. Then he saw Casey's red face and eyes to match.

He smacked Derek lightly on the back of the head. "What did you do?" he asked Derek.

Casey let go of Derek and wrapped her arms around Ralph.

"Wow," Ralph said. "Looks like you really did it this time, Dude. Hey Case, want me to beat him up for you?"

"Stop," Casey said.

"'Kay," Ralph said. "Stop what?"

"Stop acting like everything's okay!" Casey said.

"Casey," Derek said.

"What do you mean?" Ralph said. "What, you mean like the dirty joke?"

"I mean your Dad," Casey said. Derek started to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Oh him," Ralph said, wrinkling his nose. "Don't worry about him. He's...nothing to worry about."

"I dunno," Casey said. "He kinda worried me."

"Cracks in sidewalks worry you," Ralph teased, grinning at her. "So I'm taking the dog out, who's with me?"

"Ralphie," Casey said.

"Yeah, yeah," Ralph said. "I'm not supposed to, whatever. _You_ wanna walk him?"

The word "walk" made the dog hop off the bed and set his tail going again. Casey's eyes widened.

"Didn't think so," Ralph said. He grabbed a leash out of a drawer and held it up. "Let's go, Rockstar."

He smiled as the huge dog bounded over to him so he could fasten the leash.

"Y'all coming?" Ralph asked.

Part Three: Derek.

Later on, after they got back home, Derek pulled Casey into his bedroom and shut the door.

"We gotta talk," Derek said.

"Yes, we do," Casey said. "Do you wanna talk about the same thing I wanna talk about?"

"What?" Sometimes she really screwed up his train of thought. Derek wondered if she did it on purpose.

"Ralph?" Casey said. "We gotta think of something to do about him. He has to live with that—."

"Pig. We've established that," Derek said.

"Bastard," Casey said.

"That too," Derek said.

"Day in and day out," Casey said. "I can't even imagine that. I don't know how I managed to deal with him for a couple hours. Do you even know what he said?"

"Big, retarded, useless and disappointing mop-pusher who plays with sticks," Derek said. "You told me. Twice."

"Don't make a joke out of it," Casey said. "I can't think of anything less funny. And Ralph just shrugged it off? How do you get to the point where you can just do that, act like it's no big deal and be so close to convincing?"

"Years of practice," Derek said.

"Derek," Casey said.

"I'm not kidding," Derek said. "He is a bullshit artist of the highest caliber. He fooled the hell outta me."

"How?" Casey said.

"Last week," Derek said. "After gym, we were changing and he had..."

"A bruise?" Casey said. "So his father _is_ beating him?"

"Not a bruise," Derek said. "It was a long scratch. He blamed it on the dog, and I believed him. Until a couple hours ago."

"What changed your mind?" Casey said.

"That welt on your arm," he said, pulling the sleeve of her pajama top up a little. "See how wide it is?"

"Uh-huh," Casey said.

"Ralph's was way thinner and scabbed over," Derek said. "Maybe if he had a cat, I'd believe it, but no way did his dog with those huge paws make a scratch like that."

"So was it his Dad?" Casey said. "Or—"

"Or Ralph did it himself with a razor blade," Derek said. "At the time, I asked him and he lied his ass off and I believed him, because I'm an idiot."

"You're not an idiot, Derek," Casey said. Any other day he'd have a field day with a statement like that. He'd get her to say it again into a digital recorder and post it to his myspace.

"I have known Ralph for almost as long as I've known Sam," Derek said. "This should not have gotten by me. One of my two best friends in the world does something like that and tells one _pathetic_ lie, and I believe him. Even though I know how full of shit he usually is."

"Sam said that a social worker came, but nothing happened," Casey began.

"Well, yeah," Derek said. "Nobody could prove anything."

"But now there's some kind of evidence that something's wrong," Casey said.

"Which they'll trace to what, exactly?" Derek said.

"I don't know," Casey said. "Emotional problems. Like if we go to school and, I don't know, meet with Paul—"

"Paul?" Derek said. Casey probably already had the poor guy exhausted. Derek wondered what Paul would be able to do with this.

"Yeah, Paul, Derek," Casey said. "If you tell Paul something about this, he's got to report it."

"Then what?" Derek asked.

"Then—then," Casey said. "I don't know what happens then, but don't you think we need to try it?"

Derek kicked at a boot that was on the floor near his desk, trying to get it to stand upright.

"Yeah," Derek said. "We can try. We don't have a choice."

Part Four: Ralph.

Hagrid was really unhappy with Ralph when he left for school Monday morning. He'd forgive Ralph the second he came home at the end of the day to take him for his walk, the same way he always did. That day was different because when the dog whined and tried to block his every step, he came within inches of letting the dog get his way. It was always a temptation. The dog did stuff like curling up into Ralph's still-warm bed on cold days, closing his eyes tight, and looking real comfortable when Ralph got out of the shower, still shivering. He also liked to lie down in a patch of sun from a window right after his morning walk, so that Ralph was tempted to say to hell with the shower and just hang out with the dog all day. There'd be less pressure that way.

Before Ralph's grandmother died, Sam had been really riding his ass to fill out university applications. Like that was gonna happen. Sam kept stuffing the applications into Ralph's messenger bag when he wasn't looking so he'd find them when he reached in there for a pencil or a piece of gum. The thing that Sam refused to understand that even if by some world-turned-upside-down miracle a school decided to let him in, there was no way to pay for it. As it was, his Dad was about to charge him for rent after his eighteenth birthday.

The old man could be kidding, but Ralph didn't think so.

So there was the nagging, and then there was the constant news that somebody or other had gotten into the school of their dreams. Sheldon got into every school he applied for, early admission. Only one school turned Casey down. Emily got into most of her schools. Both Derek and Sam had university recruiters crushing on them. Drooling, even. He was getting left behind. It was unavoidable. He knew it should still bother him, but somehow it didn't matter anymore.

Even the prom talk that was starting to circulate, all the talk of limos and hotel rooms rolled off his back. He could probably find a date if he wanted one, but he couldn't muster up the enthusiasm to pay money that he's been working his ass off for to rent an ugly tux and listen to drum machine-laden techno remixes of songs he didn't like in the first place. The whole thing seemed like a waste of time and energy that he just didn't have.

After the usual argument with Hagrid, he went to the living room to say goodbye to his mother. She was on the couch where he'd left her the night before. She was working on a bowl of cereal and watching the morning news so that was progress. She might even leave the house.

"See ya later, Ma," Ralph said, pecking her on the cheek.

"Are you sure you want to go in today?" Mom said.

"Yeah, I better go in," Ralph said. She didn't question him further, thankfully, because he couldn't think of one reason that he really needed to go to school.

"You okay, here?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "I might go for a walk later. Pick up a movie, what do you think? Your father's got the late shift, so it's just the three of us for dinner. Where is your little brother? Did you walk him?"

"Yeah, he went back to bed," Ralph said.

"Your bed?" Mom asked.

"Where else?" Ralph said.

"Well," Mom said. "Be good."

"I'll try," Ralph said.

He went out to the driveway and was met with the sight of his grandmother's car on the street where he left it. He'd have to move it before the street sweepers came by, but he couldn't make himself drive it right then. It might or might not be his now. Some relative might come out of the woodwork and claim it, and they could have it. His bus pass still worked.

He was pulled out of another English class, this time by Tinker Tomlin. He thought maybe the loudspeaker was broken.

"Sorry about your Grandma, man," Tinker said, once they were in the hall.

"Thanks, Tink," Ralph said. People were doing that all day. People he didn't even know came up to him that day. It was more proof that his Dad was wrong about pretty much everything. According to him, most of the people walking the Earth were pukes. But as far as Ralph could see, most people were okay. The old man was the puke.

Tinker stopped in front of Room 118. One of the guidance counselors' offices. Ralph raised an eyebrow at Tinker, who shrugged and knocked on the door. They heard a faint "Come on in" from inside and Tinker opened the door and gestured for Ralph to go in.

"Later, man," Tinker said.

"'Kay," Ralph said.

"Ralph Jankowski?"

"Yeah," Ralph said, turning into the room.

"Paul Greebey," An overly cheerful man said. He held out a hand to shake. Ralph obliged.

"Call me Paul," Paul said. "Why don't you have a seat? Take a load off. Stay a while."

Ralph looked at him uncertainly, but sat down. This guy was way too friendly. Something was up.

"So I'm a little surprised we haven't met before," Paul said. "I'm the senior university advisor this year, and I thought I'd met everyone in grade twelve."

"Yeah, well," Ralph said. "I'm not really a university type of guy."

"Why's that?" Paul asked. He opened a file. "Seems like your grades are decent. Math grade's a little low, but so was mine in high school. You can get into college with these."

Ralph said nothing, waited for the rah-rah college wave to pass.

"If it's a money issue, you have a lot of options open to you," Paul said.

"What, like a loan?" Ralph snorted. He cringed a little, realizing who he sounded like.

"That would be one option, but not the only one," Paul said. "There's financial aid, which you wouldn't have to pay back. There are affordable two year schools that you can go to for an associates degree, and then from there, you can transfer to a bachelor program."

"You're looking at me like I'm crazy," Paul continued. "I get that a lot. But I have seen students just like you go pretty far."

_Dude sounds like he's selling insurance or something, _Ralph thought, again cursing himself for being a cynical asshole. _Don't be like that. _

"That's not really why I called you in here, though," Paul said.

"No?" Ralph asked, his eyebrows knitting together. He'd been told that it looked like his brain hurt when he did that. So he did it a lot when people started asking him questions he didn't want to answer. Which, he was sure, was about to happen. Nobody expected much of people who looked like they were too stupid to string two sentences together.

"No," Paul agreed. He wasn't smiling anymore. "I'm told that your grandmother just passed away and that you were very close to her."

"Yeah," Ralph said.

"Well, that's a painful experience, losing someone so close to you," Paul said.

"She was eighty-two," Ralph said. "It happens."

"That it does," Paul said. "But it's never easy. So I wanted to know how you've been doing. How things have been going at home. With your father?"

_Casey_, Ralph thought. _This was Casey's idea._

"Actually it was my Mom's mom who died," Ralph said. "So _she's_ been pretty upset."

"That's understandable," Paul said. "But that's not what I asked you."

"I don't follow," Ralph said.

"Yes you do," Paul said. "You probably don't get enough credit for it, but you're pretty perceptive. So I'm going to show you the respect you deserve and be honest. I've been told that you've been having some trouble at home, specifically with your father. And I think that that has been causing you a lot of stress, and—"

"Do I need to guess who told you this?" Ralph said.

"Is that important?" Paul asked.

"Yeah," Ralph said. "Because she watches too much TV and that messes with her head a little."

"But we're talking about you now," Paul said.

"I don't see you denying who it was," Ralph said. "And you agree that she thinks life is a show with Mischa Barton in it."

"I'm neither confirming or denying anything," Paul said. "It's not important who it was. I'm focusing on you right now, and you're trying to avoid answering me. I understand if you don't trust me, but I'm here to tell you that you can."

"Yeah, right," Ralph said. "Like if I said that I wanted to jump off the roof or something you wouldn't be on the horn in five minutes to have me locked up."

"_Do_ you ever think of jumping off of roofs?" Paul said.

"No," Ralph lied. "I. Do. Not."

"Have you ever intentionally cut yourself to relieve other pain you've been feeling?" Paul asked.

_Fucking Derek_, Ralph thought.

"Are you kidding me?" Ralph said, trying to grin. "Do people really _do_ that? I thought soap opera writers made that up. Like amnesia."

"We both know that it's very real," Paul said.

"And you think I do that," Ralph said. The truth was that he did it once, and realized immediately that someone would probably see it and ask questions, so he never did it again. And he was right. "You think I'm crazy?"

"No," Paul said. "I think that a person who does that is in pain and is looking for ways to release it."

"By causing more pain?"

"Yes," Paul said. "By trying to control it. That doesn't make you crazy."

"Wouldn't make me too bright," Ralph said.

"That has nothing to do with it, either," Paul said.

"Do you have, like, a teleprompter behind me somewhere?" Ralph asked. "'Cause you seem to have an answer for everything."

"Not everything," Paul said. "But I would like to try to help you with this, if you'd let me."

"There's nothing to help me with," Ralph said.

"So you don't have a two inch cut on your shin."

"That?" Ralph said. "Is that what this is about? My dog did that! Do you wanna call him in for roughing up his dude?"

"Why don't you show me?"

Ralph had to show him. If he refused, then he'd really look like he was hiding something.

"It's almost gone," Ralph said raising the leg of his jeans to show the mostly healed scratch.

"You have a Great Dane," Paul said. "Am I right?"

"Yeah," Ralph said.

"Great Danes have claws that are too thick to have made that mark," Paul said.

"I'm screwed right now, no matter what I tell you, right?" Ralph asked, realizing. "You have to make a report."

"I'd hardly say that you're screwed, Ralph," Paul said. "But I do have to make a report, yes. I can't promise confidentiality if I think that you're in danger."

"What do you have to do?" Ralph asked. He had a feeling that if he made one wrong move in the next minute or so, the man really would call an ambulance on him.

"That's something that we should talk about," Paul said. "I want you to be honest with me. Do you feel like you have no hope for the future? Have you ever thought that you wanted to die?"

"What the hell kinda question is that?"

"A serious one," Paul said. "One that I hope you'll answer honestly."

"If I said yes, then what?" Ralph asked.

"Then I'd have to ask if you'd planned it out," Paul said. "If you think you'd do it right away, or if you would consider another way out of the situation you're in. The fact that you're still sitting here talking to me is a really good sign that you would."

"What do I have to do?" Ralph asked.

"First I think we should try calling your mother in to talk," Paul said.

"My mother?" Ralph said. "My mother doesn't need one more thing to worry about. We can't tell my mother about this! It would kill her."

"How would she feel if she didn't have you with her?" Paul asked. "Wouldn't that be worse?"

Part Five: Sam.

Three days earlier.

"What?" Sam asked. "He did fucking _what_? When were you planning on telling me, when he slit his fucking wrists?"

"I only just realized what it was," Derek said. "He said the cut was from playing with the dog. You would've believed him, too."

"But that dog has the paws of a Bengal Tiger," Sam said. "If those claws drew blood, he'd need stitches. I mean, you used to have a dog, you know what the scratches a dog gives you look like."

"I had a way smaller dog, Sam," Derek said. "And he died a long time ago. I'm sorry I'm so beyond stupid, but what else do you want from me?"

"Just..." Sam began. "I...Jesus, Dude, what the hell are we gonna do?"

"Casey said she'd talk to Paul at school," Derek said.

"Paul?" Sam said. "Paul Greebey? What's he gonna do, hand out college brochures? I've been doing that for the last three months. And I don't think it's helping."

"He's a social worker," Derek said. "I know we tried that before, but this guy might not give up so easily."

"Ralph's gonna lie his ass off, like he always does," Sam said. "He's gonna make the 'I'm too stupid to follow this line of questioning' face. He fools people with this shit every day. What if it doesn't work?"

"Well fuck if I know, Sam!" Derek said. "Casey came up with our one idea. _I _got nothing. _You_ got nothing. My Dad said it was the exact right thing to do, and I just really hope he's right. 'Cause we're just shit out of luck otherwise."

Sheldon and Emily were told about the situation next. When Casey told Emily, Em dropped a glass she'd been holding, smashing it to millions of wicked little shards that took more than an hour for her and Casey to clean up before they felt safe letting Em's cat loose. The both of them cried during most of the cleaning up. Sheldon cursed more loudly and creatively than anyone thought possible, barely seeming to notice the little shard of glass that got stuck in his palm until it was pointed out. He cursed some more, cleaned and bandaged the little cut, then seemed to feel better and calmly asked what he could do, if anything.

The five of them spent the next three days calling or texting Ralph every few hours because none of them could stop themselves.

The day of Ralph's meeting, nobody paid the least attention to anything that happened in their classes. Casey texted Ralph after the last bell rang and got no answer.

Derek called Ralph twenty minutes after that and it went straight to voicemail.

Sam tried Ralph's mother. No answer.

They spent more than an hour outside the school, doing nothing in particular when they weren't trying to get through to Ralph.

"Do you think he's just ignoring us?" Casey asked. "Like maybe he hates us now?"

"Not the worst thing that could happen," Emily said. "I'll take it." She leaned over onto Sheldon who put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

Still, none of them could stop compulsively checking their phones and making calls. Finally, they had to disperse and go home.

Part Six: Casey.

Casey's mother poked her head into her room that night, asked to come in.

"Okay," Casey said, sitting up. Her stomach dropped right away, and it only got worse when George and Derek came in and shut her door.

"Have a seat, Derek," George said.

Casey and Derek looked at each other and he sat next to her. She thought she could see his pulse beating.

"I just got a phone call," George began. "From Ruth Jankowski."

"He did it," Derek said. "He actually killed himself."

"Oh my God," Casey said. She curled herself up as tightly as she could on the bed, tucking her knees under her chin. She resisted the temptation to rock back and forth.

"No," George said. "No no no. It's not what you think it is. He's in the hospital."

"They caught him in time?" Casey asked.

"No," George said. "He checked himself in."

Derek sat on the bed, staring at George.

"He went to the meeting," George began. "Paul called Ruth in and the three of them decided that Ralph should go to the hospital for a few weeks. I guess things were worse than we thought they were, but it seems like he's getting some help."

"Derek?" Casey's Mom asked.

"Yeah," Derek said. "Checked himself into the hospital. I'm listening." He nodded his head a few times, taking deep breaths. "I got it. I'm just gonna—"

He took a few calm steps toward the door, then gave up, putting a hand over his mouth and running to the bathroom. George went after him.

Casey's phone rang. She was a little hysterical, so her mother picked up.

"Sam," Mom said. "Did you hear? Yeah...he is, but I have stuff to settle his stomach. I always try to keep it handy. Hang on." She put the phone to her chest. "Casey? Can you talk to Sam for a sec?"

Casey took the phone. "Sam!" she said.

"Hey," Sam said. "How you doing?"

"Oh you know," Casey said. "Same ole, same ole. I'm bored as hell."

Sam laughed pretty hard, even though that was kind of a lame joke.

"Let's go see if Derek's done puking," Casey said, taking the phone into the hall with her.

Everybody took turns visiting Ralph as soon as they could. They all worried that he never wanted to see them again, but he'd been pretty excited to see them all. His mother filed for divorce shortly after he checked in to the hospital. She packed up and moved as much as she could to a friend's house that first night, before her husband got home. That turned out to be little more than a dramatic gesture however, since Ruth had managed to hire herself a good lawyer on the cheap. George Venturi lived for this type of thing. Ruth kept the house.

She called Sam and he came to get Hagrid for a few weeks. There was no way the tiny woman would be able to handle a dog that size, and Sam was one of the only people, besides Ralph himself, who could walk him.

Ralph asked about Hagrid pretty often, and hated being away from him, because it wasn't like anyone could explain to the dog what was going on. Not that he didn't forgive Ralph his absence the second he saw him again.

Ella Rothenburg, Ralph's grandmother, left a will. She didn't have a lot of money, but she left most of it and the car to her only daughter and grandson. Sam pointed out several times that the small inheritance looked just big enough to cover a couple of semesters at community college.

He didn't get to graduate with everyone else, but earned his equivalency diploma and finally took Sam's advice, enrolling into a two year school that winter.

A/N 2: You knew I wouldn't kill him, right? Wow, I now understand the impulse to apologize for a fic. This was painful, but I had to explore it. The original prompt was:

Ralph is a happy-go-lucky, carefree guy. Or at least that's what all of his friends at school think. His home life isn't so great, especially his relationship with his dad who is verbally/emotionally abusive and is constantly putting him down. The only person that he's close to in his family that makes everything seem not so bad is his grandma, but when she dies he sinks further into the depression that he was already experiencing prior to her death. Now he's suicidal and cutting and his friends begin to notice as his mask slips away. They try to help him before it's too late and Casey even goes so far as to get him a meeting with Paul. This meeting with Paul must be seen in the fic and whether the ending is happy (with Ralph getting the help that he needs and putting his life back together) or sad (with Ralph dying) is up to you.


End file.
